


Reverse

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Charles outranks Klinger... but he’s not always over him. PWP.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Reverse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peaceloveandjocularity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/gifts).



> Im_writing_out_of_time helped me with this one!

“Darling, nothing would please me more than to please you, truly. However…”

Klinger had already seen how exhausted his dear one was. He’d been reading the man since he’d stepped on the base; even blind he could have seen how hard he was working just to keep it all together. It was a risk, but he thrived on risks where Charles was concerned. “What if you didn’t have to do anything?”

One eye opened. “Hmm?”

“Lemme try.”

Both beautiful eyes were looking at him now. “Try? You mean…” His face wasn’t just red, Klinger was oh-so interested to see: it was burning.

_ Secret desire _ ?  _ Delicious. _

“C’mon, Major. I’ve got this.”

Those beautiful eyes squeezed shut. Klinger knew surrender when he saw it, too. Klinger reached up and eased Charles’s head down to him. “Max, I…” 

“No, don’t worry about it, Major. Let me take the reins tonight.” He took Charles hand in his and kissed it, dragging the tip of one finger into his mouth. 

Charles’s knees felt weak. “I never knew you were such a minx, my dear.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

Charles thought that Klinger would lose the ability to tease so effectively as their positions shifted, but that teasing tongue just changed targets. Klinger’s fingers moved to Charles’s belt as he raised himself up on his toes to kiss the major’s neck. Charles leaned his head to the side to give Klinger easier access as Klinger’s nimble fingers undid his belt with a swiftness Charles had never seen. 

Klinger pushed him back towards the bed. 

As far as the Corporal was concerned, exhausted was another word for pliable. Given the positions they usually held to, he didn’t get to see Charles this untucked - this  _ yielding  _ that often. And since Charles was so much taller, it wasn’t usually easy to get him off of his feet. Klinger toed at his boots. “Get with it, Major.” 

He’s never seen it before, but Charles actually  _ toed _ out of his boots without unlacing them; they clunked against the floor as Charles leaned back on the bed. Klinger yanked the belt from its loops and held it triumphantly over Charles as he positioned his knees on either side of Charles’s thighs. “You look good underneath me.” 

Charles’s face flushed bright red. “And you look ethereal above me. I could write sonnets about how beautiful you are, Max.” 

Klinger smiled down at him, unfastening the clasp on his pants and pulling the pants down Charles’s legs. “No boxers?” He said, trailing his fingers up Charles’s thigh. 

“They, ah,” he gulped. “I don’t have any clean.” 

“All the better for me,” Klinger said, leaning down. “I might not have your penchant for words, but my mouth is good at other things.” 

Charles gasped as Klinger took him all the way into his mouth. “Penchant- that’s- that’s a good word,” he stammered.

Klinger’s eyes glittered; his lips were wet.  _ Learned it from you _ , those eyes said. That mouth was intent on driving all those big words quite out of his mind and replacing them with smaller, better ones like “please,” and “oh, god, Max.” Not that it was easy even to get that. There was a run-silent, run-deep aspect to Charles that drove Klinger crazy. Nothing was prettier, though, than when the major descended into nothing but moans. 

He wasn’t nearly to that point of desperation yet though. His large hand came to rest on Klinger’s head, not pushing his head down, but letting Klinger know that he could. His thumb stroked Klinger’s hair. God, he was so beautiful like this . 

Klinger knew him, knew the pace to set, knew how to use his tongue and his lips not just to enflame, but to comfort, to bestow affection. Charles’ head went back and forth on his pillow; he sighed and closed his eyes. Usually, he liked to be in charge (surgeons were self-important as a rule), but giving himself over to Klinger certainly had its rewards. He sank deeper into the cot. Klinger kissed the inside of his thighs. “You wanna tell me how to get you ready or do you want me to make it up?” 

“Klinger, I give myself over to your every whim.” 

“Dangerous precedent,” he noted, diving in. 

Charles gasped. He’d done as much to Klinger, of course, but the sensations came from everywhere at once; he could feel Klinger’s fingers dragging as they met the hair on his thighs, holding him open; that teasing tongue - so quick with wisecracks - pierced him. When fingers joined that tongue Charles whimpered, torn between grinding down and begging him to stop. 

He settled for threading his fingers in Klinger’s dark hair, pulling just a little to alert Klinger to the effect he was having. “You’re going to… I’m going to… Max!” 

“Go ahead,” said his lover from between his thighs, pleasure-drunk. “I can get you back there again.” 

It was a hell of a brag. Even when he  _ wasn’t  _ exhausted, a second peak was a rarity. But who would it hurt to let Klinger try? 

On the other hand, what he really wanted wasn’t the orgasm - it was to watch Klinger losing it on top of him… inside of him. “ _ Max… _ !”

“So much for my ‘whim,’ huh? What are you yelling for, beautiful?” 

Charles first looked annoyed at the endearment, he usually fought Klinger on compliments, but then he shot him a pleading look. “I don’t recall making you beg - especially on the nights - and  _ days _ ! - you were tired.” 

Klinger did something with his fingers that made him gasp. “Nice try, Major. You love to take your time. You’ve had my arms trussed up in everything from ribbons to shoelaces, so I don’t think you have room to complain.”

“I was demonstrating the exquisite pleasure that may be found in a leisurely pace. If you did not wish me to savor you, you should have taken care to appear less appetizing. Besides, I am hardly complaining. I’m simply trying to persuade you into following through on your latest topsy-turvy scheme!” 

Klinger just smiled, continued to tease. “You say I’m appetizing, but you should see yourself like this… all stretched out and languid, your legs open…”

Charles made a sound of frustration; his legs were open but he wanted to be  _ filled _ . “Who taught you the word ‘languid?’” If Klinger was polishing his erotic vocabulary in his off hours, he was doomed. 

“Hey, I listen sometimes! I know things!”

It was the perfect springboard. “Would it be too terribly much to ask you to prove exactly what it is you’ve been learning under me?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” But, in a faux show of mercy, he did allow him to feel his cock pressed against his opening. He held the pose until Charles writhed for him, but refused to give him more than this teasing taste. 

“You’re not making a strong case for my letting you do this again,” Charles threatened (though his voice sounded too defeated for the threat to really carry). 

“All the more reason to enjoy it while I’m here.” 

Charles groaned. “Klinger, this is sex, not a shakedown! You are aware of that, correct!?” 

“Alright, alright. I just like to know I’m really wanted, Major.” 

It was the sort of thing that would have merited grabbing him by the shoulders, holding him down, and offering visceral (possibly bruising) proof if he hadn’t been so worn out. Words would have to suffice. “Klinger, I would trade my pension, my position in society, and, indeed, my freedom if it came to that for your touch… but if you do not get on with it I am going to strangle you.” 

“Sure thing. But, for the record, you do this kind of thing to me constantly.” 

“You are made of considerably stronger stuff than I. I said so from the first. How can uppercrust Boston compete with Toledo, after all?” 

_ It really can’t,  _ thought Klinger.  _ At least not when it comes to being denied a promised fuck.  _

Deciding that getting Charles to praise Toledo was a victory of its own, Klinger obliged his beloved by realigning them and easing inside. He didn’t need to be so careful, but he remembered his first time with Charles - his gentleness, the concern in his eyes - and he sought to repay that care. But when he purposely kept his initial thrusts shallow, Charles gave him a warning look. “I thought we agreed that turnabout, in these conditions, is  _ not  _ fair play! I am not Paul Revere pottery, Klinger - I will not break!” 

Klinger let him feel more even as he took in the sight of him. The only thing that could have made it prettier was if he’d been wearing a full skirt; all that fabric bunched and fluttering around Charles’ soft skin would have been something to see. As for breaking… “You sure you trust me?” 

“With my very life.” Klinger couldn’t tell if Charles' voice was shaking with emotion or if he sounded shaky because the rest of him was wound up; it got to him either way. Responding, he upped the pace and the force and smiled when Charles made a sound that managed to mingle surprise, the sense of being pleasantly tortured, and pure want. Klinger wished there was a way to experience this - experience  _ him  _ \- and be detached at once; the sound of his own harsh breathing got in the way of listening and he wanted to catch every moan. 

“I’m gonna get your tape recorder out, Major. Get you to make those pretty noises so I can listen to you all the time.”

“If you can reach it, by all means,” Charles managed. 

There was something else the Corporal wanted to reach first. Charles had the advantage when it came to height (and that was  _ all over _ , too) but Klinger matched him inch for inch when it came to determination. And if Charles had employed medical training to quickly find that place in him, he was employing advanced training in reading an overeducated Major from New England; it didn’t pay well, necessarily, but he was damn good at it. 

When he saw the muscles clench and ripple in Charles’ abdomen, he knew he was on the right track. When Charles gripped his hips to hold him down, he welcomed the touch, knowing he’d smile in the shower at those raspberry-bright fingerprint-shaped marks. 

“How much can you take?” Charles had gasped above him once, doing him so hard that he’d gone limp and let the violence of their joining practically bounce him off the thin mattress. Now he felt awed at just how much Klinger could give. Everytime Charles shifted, asking for more, Klinger answered. His hair was dark with sweat and Charles could see the muscles straining in his neck, his skin glistening. And even as he crashed repeatedly against that inner shore, his fingers were still wrapped around him, begging. 

Charles’ eyes begged, too, when he managed to get them to stay open. The blue in them was exiled to a very thin rim. Klinger was so caught by the gaze that he almost missed the single word that came from his lips. “More?” 

In the moment that followed, Klinger didn’t think about the Major’s pleasure at all; he just buried himself as deeply inside of him as he could, taking him as well and as thoroughly as he knew how. Charles cried out for him, called his name, and each time he tried to answer that single word request, that gorgeous plea. 

He knew when Charles was close. Even if he’d never taken him like this, he’d taken him there often enough. This time, he intended for Charles to finish first. He deserved to get to experience the way it felt to be taken hard just as you were coming down from your own orgasm. He just hoped the Major would remember he’d relinquished the reins for the night; Klinger didn’t mind being conducted like the symphonies Charles loved, but this time he wanted to  _ watch _ , to see those stunning eyes go wide because of him. And he could think of no better way to accomplish this than to say so, explicitly. “Please, Charles. I want to see it on your face. Let me see you coming under me.” 

Charles had exactly long enough to think  _ God, but his tongue is a menace _ before complying with those dark, beseeching eyes. But if he had thought he would be held close in the aftermath (Klinger was almost compulsively cuddly whether they were having sex or not), he was suprised by Klinger’s decision to follow him into his bliss. Overstimulated as he was, those final thrusts had him gasping with wonder, fingers digging into the linens and failing to find purchase. And seeing Klinger’s head go back, his throat taut to stifle a cry, was something he’d never forget. 

Afterwards, he dragged the Corporal down and into his arms. He was almost asleep when he felt Klinger’s lips on his forehead. “Thanks, beautiful.”

Sleepy as he was, Charles wrinkled his nose at the compliment. But what he said was, “Anytime,” and it was difficult to say which man was happier with the verdict.

End!


End file.
